HERE'S TO YOU JOE
by FAMAS
Summary: Set between B:TAS and Batman Beyond. BruceSelina. Bruce embarks on a journey of selfreflection that eventually leads him back to the memory of his parents' killer. CHAPTER 2 NOW UP!
1. Pilgrimage

HERE'S TO YOU JOE

CHAPTER 1 - PILGRIMAGE

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything in this fiction, DC owns it all

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is set between B:TAS and Batman Beyond, so Bruce is about 50 something, in this first chapter he's on his way to see Selina. A lot of this story will be about reflection. Oh and it fiddles around with continuity stuff as well, whilst also borrowing a bit of inspiration from "Batman: The Dark Knight Returns". DON'T FORGET TO SEND YOUR REVIEWS, I live for reviews, I especially love detailed, analytical reviews, be sure to tell me all about exactly what you did or didn't like about the fic.

It wasn't a very nice day today, not for Bruce Wayne anyway. Maybe it was the heat wave?. Peaked at 97 last he heard, no sign of letting up, the manor has everykind of air conditioning...and a pool, heat didn't bother you there, but he was out in Gotham's streets now, donned in an emmaculate suit and tie and damn near roasting alive. He felt like a lobster, being boiled alive in his own jacket. His white, button up shirt clinging to his form from all the persperation, felt like a second skin.

'Only two more blocks till Selina's, then it'll all be ok'.

He ressaured himself.

Anything else, on a day like this, he would've just taken a car, but this was a pilgrimage, this was about suffering for what you get at the end of the trip, and lord was he suffering. From Wayne Manor to Selina Kyle's abode in the East End, all on foot, one day a week. As much as he loathed the heat, he could more than tolerate it, impressive, especially at the age of 55. Besides, the more suffering he endured along the way, the sweeter the arrival would be.

If it wasn't the heat, it was definitely his leg, that goddamn leg!. the one that was busted, the one that gave him a limp, the one that he needed a support cane for. The pain he felt in that leg, like somebody driving a bayonet through it. He hated that goddamn leg, because with every step he felt that stabbing pain, that pain...that pain that mocked him, taunted him, haunted him, that pain that would laugh at him:

"You failed old man, you fucked up...BIG TIME, now there's shit everywhere...shit all over them...and it's ALL YOUR FAULT!".

And it was true, all of it, every last word, true. This leg was his reminder of everything that had gone wrong, of every mistake he had ever made, of everyone he had failed, this leg was truly his curse, truly his penance.

'Only one more block till Selina's, prove your worth it oldman'.

So he pushed on, shuffling across the pavement, with his cane and his gimp leg.

"Hey old man got a dollar, scratch that I'll take fifty".

Some weasely thug with a switchblade blocked his path.

"What, you deaf oldman, fork over the cash".

A single backhanded swipe, and the old man's cane connected with the thug's jaw, the weasel went straight down, his head landing in the drain, blood and teeth strewn across the pavement.

"Sorry punk, that money's child support".

That little punk was nothing, there were new gangs popping up everywhere these days. He had taken down every last freak in this city before the cowl got hung up for good, but who was gonna deal with their children, not him, too old, too tired, too burnt out, who was gonna clean up all this shit?. But then he turned a corner and all that shit vanished.

-Kyle's-

That's what the club was called, simply "Kyle's", he loved that name, but he feared it also. Such a lavish old building, one of the oldest and finest peices of architecture in Gotham city, one from his preservation collection, which he had eventually donated to her, the mother of his only child, for an ambitious venture she had planned for years.

"You made it old man, you lucky bastard...you made it".

END OF CHAPTER 1.

Well I hope you enjoyed that. DON'T FORGET TO SEND YOUR REVIEWS, I live for reviews, I especially love detailed, analytical reviews, be sure to tell me all about exactly what you did or didn't like about the fic. Seeya!

FAMAS

P.S: REVIEWS, REVIEWS, REVIEWS!


	2. Nostalgic

HERE'S TO YOU JOE

CHAPTER 2 - NOSTALGIC

DISCLAIMER: I don't own anything in this fiction, DC owns it all

AUTHOR'S NOTE: This is set between B:TAS and Batman Beyond, so Bruce is about 50 something. A lot of this story will be about reflection. Oh and it fiddles around with continuity stuff as well, whilst also borrowing a bit of inspiration from "Batman: The Dark Knight Returns". DON'T FORGET TO SEND YOUR REVIEWS, I live for reviews, I especially love detailed, analytical reviews, be sure to tell me all about exactly what you did or didn't like about the fic.

Kyle's, quite a place really. Old fashion architecture, industrial gothic, buildings like this were all over the place when Bruce was a boy. Kyle's was a survivor, the majority of vintage Gotham architecture had either fallen prey to rapid urban renewal or simply fallen into decay. Selina had the place completely restored, opened it as a burlesque theatre house. Drinks and dancing girls mostly, nothing really "explicit" or "dirty" just sought of "naughty", rather characteristic of it's owner. Right on the outskirts of the East End, it's nostalgic charm proved a real hit with the high rollers, they flocked to the place. They'd drill through round after round of liquor, watch beautiful girls prance along stage in playful outfits, and drop huge tips. Bruce wasn't here for the liquor, not yet anyway, and he wasn't here for the dancing girls, he was here to see the hostess. The place didn't open for around another six hours, the bar staff were rincing shot glasses and restocking shelves, a troupe of showgirls were busy running through rehersals on stage. Each girl clad in provocative cat themed costumes, tiger-stripes, leopard spots, whiskers, ears, tails.

"Excuse me sir, but Kyle's doesn't open till six pm, so until then would you mind...".

A smooth, sweet young voice, interrupted Bruce's train of thought. He turned to see a beautiful young barmaid approach his side.

"...oh, Mr. Wayne it's you..."

A gleeful smile spread across the young woman's smooth face.

"Good afternoon Kiki".

Bruce smiled back at her through tired eyes.

"HEY GIRLS, BRUCE WAYNE IS BACK!".

Kiki called to the showgirls rehersing on stage. Upon which each of them yelped, bounced off the stage and swiftly bounded toward him, soon Bruce Wayne was tightly surrounded by a small army of beautiful young women in feline get-ups.

"Mr Wayne, are you staying for our show?".

"We've been practising all week".

"Want to watch the rehersals?".

"Ladies, please".

He chuckled, lightly.

"I'm really too old for this sort of excitement".

"Bruce!...your'e late".

A sultry voice, lightly instilled with a huskiness of age, was heard from the staircase opposite the bar. Bruce and each of the ten or so girls surrounding him, turned in it's direction. Descending the staircase was a woman, around her mid 50's, donned in a form fitting black dress, cut off just below her knees, with the sleeves extending all the way to her palms, and the highest of neck lines. Drawing attention to her still firm, sculpted, panther-like figure whilst simultaneously hiding any wrinkled flesh, she always knew the best ways of excentuating herself.

"...Selina".

The weary old man smiled.

"Shoo kittens, that's MY ball of yarn your'e pawing at, we open in six hours no time to waste harrassing poor old Mr.Wayne".

The beautiful old woman scolded her young proteges'. Each of them pouted in dissapointment and slowly sulked away.

"That's some genuine authoritive power you've got their old woman, I'm impressed".

Bruce spoke with a wry smile, reserved for her and her alone.

"Yes, I finally followed your example and got me some youthful sidekicks?".

"...Sidekicks?".

"Yes, originally I had the idea to train them".

"Train them?".

"You know what I mean, rob Gotham blind, drive you crazy, that sort of jazz, but sappy old me I love those girls like they were my own, couldn't stand the thought of them winding up in the slammer, so now they're a burlesque dance troupe, telling my life story on stage".

"A missed opportunity?".

"Hardly, most of the highrollers who come in here, they leave with empty wallets, business is booming".

She moved in close to him and slid her palms in under his jacket, only to hastily withdraw them, a confused cringe on her face. Sniffing her fingertips was more than enough to deduce why his shirt was so moist and musky.

"You walked again didn't you?".

"...correct".

"...why, it's hotter than hell outside Bruce, all that way in heat like this, and with that busted leg, you would've saved yourself a lot of unnecessary pain by just driving".

The old man lowered his head slightly, breaking eye contact with the old woman.

"The pain IS necessary, that's why they call it penance".

He muttered meekly. Selina gave off a deep sigh, turning to gaze into nothingness.

"The perspiration's dried up as musk I'll bet your a mess under that fine suit and you smell it too, you'd best head up to the penthouse, take a shower, get cleaned up, I'll be along in a minute".

And with that, Bruce Wayne turned and slowly ascended the staircase. Selina just stood in silence for a few minutes before lighting a cigarette. Exhaling in smooth whisps, she sighed to herself under her breath.

"...poor little boy".

END OF CHAPTER 2.

Well I hope you enjoyed that, because there's more to follow.

FAMAS


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